Flying Gold

by Vanessa North

  “Tanner, Tegan.” I raise my red Solo cup in greeting. “How y’all been?”

  Elspeth snorts. “His redneck really comes out up here in Royal, doesn’t it?”

  Tegan laughs “It’s pronounced Roll. Not Roy-al. But yeah, everyone starts talking like their shine-runnin’ cuzz’ns around here.” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “I heard Tanner say ‘fixin’ to’ last night.”

  “Fixing two what?” Elspeth looks at Tanner, and all the Ellis siblings erupt in laughter.

  “I was fixin’ to wash my hair, but I couldn’t find the bottle of shampoo because Duke used it all.” Tanner glares at Tegan. “I’m not a snob. I still say Roll.”

  Next to me, Tiffani nearly chokes on her beer, and I have to fight to keep my own from coming out my nose. Tiffani and her sisters have always bickered and bantered like crazy, but seeing them still do it as adults makes me feel like maybe I’m actually home here.

  “So, Tegan, you, like, drive around smashing up cars? What’s that about?” Elspeth sips her spicy beer and leans forward.

  “That—” Tegan grins “—is called fun. I know you city folk have high-class entertainment like art film houses and concert halls and places where you pay $18 for a plate of biscuits and gravy, but I’ll take smashing old dirty cars into each other until they fall apart any day.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

  Two hours later, she gets her wish.

  We make our way past a gravel lot filled with medical tents and fire marshals, an EMS crew and a fire engine both on stand-by. Tanner and Tiffani wave hello and a brawny firefighter waves back.

  We climb to sit at the very top of the bleachers, the spring air turning evening-cold around us. Tiffani and Elspeth sit on either side of me, Tanner and Tyler in front of us.

  “Where’s Duke?” I ask Tiffani, and she shrugs.

  “Spending the day with his sisters. He does that when Tanner’s doing family stuff.”

  “Wait—this is—did you invite me to do family stuff?”

  Next to me, Elspeth stiffens, but Tiffani laughs. “No, I invited you to come watch my sister crash a car.”

  “What’s the difference?” It’s important to me, in a weird way, to know, but Tiffani doesn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead, she points to an old beater down on the field below.

  “That’s Tegan. They’re starting.”

  As if by some unspoken cue, the drivers, having taken their positions, climb out of their cars and stand on the hoods. The folks in the crowd stand on the bleachers as a young girl with a warbling vibrato belts out the national anthem. Mom takes a knee. After a moment, I follow her, and Tiffani kneels down next to me. I meet her gaze, and time seems to freeze as we have a whole conversation with our eyes.

  And then, the crowd erupts in noise.

  Demolition derbies are loud, raucous events. They’re ridiculous and nihilist and comic-tragic Americana, and I’m immediately sucked in to the bizarre drama unfolding below me.

  “These two guys are cousins and supposedly best friends, but they actually hate each other.” Tiffani points at a pair of cars that have collided several times already.

  “That guy doesn’t actually want to win, but his car is in better shape than any of the others.” Elspeth gestures to a wood-paneled station wagon.

  Getting in on the game, I point out a late-seventies Volvo. “He doesn’t want anyone to know, but his favorite moment of every day is singing ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ in the shower.”

  They both turn to stare at me.

  “Super specific, Mattso, I like it.” Elspeth pats my shoulder. “Maybe if the award-winning director and cinematographer gig doesn’t work out, you can write a navel-gazing literary novel about the plight of white men and their shower boners.”

  Tiffani guffaws and then gasps.

  In the field below us, Tegan’s car barrels into the Volvo and white smoke starts pouring out from under her hood.

  “Damn.” Tiffani pouts. “Fucking vultures are gonna knock her out now.”

  And she’s right. Though Tegan gets the car moving, the others take turns smashing into her, until finally she can’t start the engine anymore. She’s out.

  Now that there’s blood in the dirt, the frenzy of violence below us amps up, the other cars piling up in ridiculous displays, over and over again, until Bridge Over Troubled Water is declared the winner.

  The cars are towed away.

  The drivers hug it out in a bizarre camaraderie.

  And then Tegan, helmet tucked under one arm, climbs the bleachers to join us. She looms over Elspeth, one hip cocked forward, and brushes her shaggy bangs out of her eyes. “Well? Were you entertained?”

  Els reaches up and grabs Tegan’s belt loop, pulling herself up and turning them sideways in a move so smooth, I wish I had a camera to capture it.

  “Fuck yes.” She kisses Tegan in this really melodramatic way, but then it turns into a real kiss and I have to look away. Yeah, it had been my idea to set them up, but I didn’t expect them to just—that. All that. Right in front of us.

  Tiffani whistles through two fingers at them, and Tyler shouts, “Get a room!”

  And then Tiffani catches my eye, and her smile falters. “Well, were you? Entertained?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Thanks for inviting us.”

  “Welcome.” She grins. “I’m glad you came. Let’s take a walk.”

  We find ourselves back at the fence line, and I catch her hand in mine. “I meant it when I said thank you for inviting us. It’s been a really fun way to unwind after a shitty week.”

  She squeezes my hand and looks away, but then she lets go. “It doesn’t bother me if your friend hooks up with my sister. I was joking when I said that.”

  What? Why would she take me aside to tell me that? “I figured.”

  “Okay. I’m just saying. I know I’ve been giving you shit since you’ve been back. Because you hurt me, and you did hurt me. But if I’m going to crew for you, we need to be able to trust each other.”

  Ah. Right. Trust.

  “I trust you, Ani.”

  She snorts. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to slash your tires when your car showed up at American Heavy Metal.”

  Yikes. “Okay, well, um, maybe the fact that you didn’t is a sign of how much I should trust you?”

  She laughs. “I guess I’m saying you’re hiring me for a job requiring we spend time together. I’m not going to let my personal feelings about our past relationship get in the way of that. I find myself not really liking who I am when I’m around you.”

  And that’s my fault.

  “Ani—”

  “Shut up and let me speak.” She glares at me. “I’m trying to apologize. I’m not very good at it.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who fucked Ashley Whitmire.”

  “Yes, you are. And I’m not going to let that be an excuse to act like someone I don’t like very much. I’m not sure we can ever be friends. But I’m not going to be a bitch.”

  “Okay. But I’d like to try to be friends.”

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  Tiffani

  “And that’s it.” I drop the camera to my chest and grin at Tanner and Duke, who’ve gotten so wrapped up in each other, they hardly notice me. He’s murmuring something in her ear, something that makes her smile so sweetly, I pick up the camera one more time. The last photo on the card will be the stunner of the bunch.

  She laughs and kisses him, then looks over at me. “Can I see?”

  “Sure, let’s go inside and pull them up on the computer.”

  Inside Tegan’s house, she and Tyler are playing video games. I glance at Tanner.

  “Pizza?” She shrugs.

  “We ordered Grubhub!” Tegan calls. “From the redneck sushi bar
. But don’t worry, we didn’t order sushi.”

  Oh god. My stomach turns.

  “Tegan, Tiffani got food poisoning from there,” Duke reminds her.

  “She ate shrimp.” Tyler doesn’t look away from the TV. “We didn’t order shr—Fuck yeah!”

  I turn back to Tanner. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab something on the way home.”

  “Speaking of home.” Tanner places a hand on my arm. “Once these two tear their focus from the screen, we’ll discuss selling the house.”

  A small ray of hope tugs at the dark clouds in my brain. “For real? Like, really?”

  “Yes, for really real. Let’s go look at my pics.”

  We open up my laptop and I plug in the card reader and load them all into Lightroom. “They’ll look better after I process them,” I say, wary of how the RAW files will look to them.

  “Oh, Tiff.” Tanner presses a hand over her mouth. “You’re so good at this. Doug, look.”

  Duke comes and stands over us, leaning over my shoulder. “Damn, I don’t look like a big dumb redneck in these.”

  “You aren’t dumb,” Tanner and I say at the same time, and he just shakes his head and points at the screen.

  “Can you send me this one for my phone screen?”

  I pull up the photo in question. He’s leaning against the Camaro, one arm around her waist, laughing at something she said, and she’s looking up at him and smiling. He looks strong and confident; she looks blissfully happy. A couple in love.

  “You bet.”

  “Thanks.” He tugs on my braid, a brotherly gesture he’s done at least once a day as long as I’ve known him.

  When the food arrives, we settle in to eat. Well, my siblings and Duke do. I’m still burnt on my last delivery from the Asian-fusion restaurant we’ve lovingly dubbed “the redneck sushi bar.”

  “We’ve come to an agreement about the house,” Tanner says after everyone has food on their plates. “We think you should have Misty put it on the market in May when school is out for the summer.”

  Tears well up in my eyes—mostly relief, but there’s definitely sadness too. In spite of my desperation to be rid of the house and the worst of the memories, it is the only home I’ve ever known, and I’ll be saying goodbye to the best of the memories, as well.

  “Aww, Tiff.” Tegan grabs my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how hard it was on you. You seemed so on top of everything.”

  “Why don’t we come over and help you go through all Dad’s stuff after work next week?” Tyler offers. “And I think I’ve still got a lot I can clear out of my old bedroom.”

  “Same.” Tanner cringes. “I think my prom dress is still hanging in the closet.”

  “Oh, wow, mine too.” Tegan’s eyes get wide. “That’s scary. I think the last time I saw it, I was still in the closet.”

  “Tegan, you’ve never been in the closet. You practically had a shrine to P!nk,” I point out. “Everyone knew you liked girls.”

  “I really liked her music, okay.” Tegan throws a fortune cookie at me. “So, I’m calling dibs on Monday night. I’ll bring beer and boxes.”

  “Tuesday,” Tanner calls out, then looks at Duke. “And Thursday? Is that cool?”

  “I’ll help too,” he offers. “Tiff’s gonna have her hands full in the garage.”

  “That leaves Wednesday and Friday for me. I can start taking boxes to storage on Friday, okay?” Tyler smiles at me. “We got this.”

  My throat is a solid lump now. “You guys, I can’t—Thank you.”

  “We love you, Tiff.”

  When I leave Tegan’s house a few hours later, for the first time in months, I don’t take the old state road out of town.

  Instead, I go home to see it as it’s always been one last time.

  I sit in Dad’s recliner, and I put my feet up. There’s an indentation where his head rested for decades, and the footrest is somewhat threadbare. My lip quivers, and now that I’m alone, I let the tears fall freely. Am I doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?

  I put the seat down and pace around the living room. My parents’ wedding picture hangs over the mantel, and they look absolutely gorgeous and in love. Mom’s wedding dress sleeves are bigger than her head, and Dad’s mullet is fierce. I wonder if he would be horrified to know the hairstyle was coming back.

  I walk up the stairs past the thirteen years of eight-by-ten school photos for each of us, crammed into every inch of space. Missing teeth and terrible sartorial choices. I let out a watery laugh when I get to my senior picture and the hickey sticking out of my collar. I thought I was so fucking cool. Dad was mortified, but he broke out the checkbook anyway. I snap a photo of it and text it to Matt.

  Remember this? *Ded*

  I don’t expect him to text back right away, but he does, the shocked face emoji, then the cry-laughing one.

  We were the worst. God, I hope when I have kids they aren’t assholes like us.

  I can picture him with kids, and I actually hope they’re total assholes just like us. I laugh so hard my sides hurt. When we were younger, we’d talk about how we wanted kids before thirty. At twenty-seven, thirty isn’t the looming abstract age we imagined it to be ten years ago. Now, that’s a sobering thought. We made plans back then. And we meant them. And I remember them with an ache almost like hunger.

  My phone rings.

  He doesn’t waste time with a hello. “Why the trip down memory lane?”

  “Because I’m going to sell the house.”

  “Wow, Ani. Wow. How do you feel about it?”

  I take a shaky breath. “Relieved. And terrified. And sad. I’ve been wanting to sell it since Christmas, but I couldn’t bring it up with the family, and now that it’s happening, it’s hitting me all at once that this is it. I can’t undo this.”

  “Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. You’re doing the right thing.”

  “Am I?”

  He sighs into the phone. “Hold on, this is important.” I hear him cover the phone and say something to someone in the room with him, then he returns. “Sorry, I’m still on set. Yes, you’re doing the right thing. It’s time for you to live your life. Not as your dad’s caretaker or the museum curator of your family’s memories. It’s time, Ani. It’s your time.”

  I take a deep breath and nod, even though I know he can’t see it. “Thank you. I’m sorry to burden you at work.”

  “Bullshit—I called you. No apologies. I gotta go, though. Are you gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah. I am.” I really am.

  “Okay. I gotta lot to do before the race—I might not get a chance to see you before we leave for North Carolina. But you call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  I hang up and make my way to my room and open my closet door. Sure enough, my prom dress hangs in the back. But I reach past it to the box of photos and negatives. Matt and I had taken photography together for our art elective junior year. The last year the art room still had a dark room. The year we fell in love. I put the box on the bed and go fetch a beer from the fridge.

  Maybe that year is a good place to start over.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tiffani

  Matt picks me up in front of the house at the crack of dawn the Friday before the race. He’s driving a massive dually towing a fully enclosed trailer. As I climb into the passenger seat, he hands me a cup of coffee. “Good morning.”

  “Hi. Thank you.” I take the coffee and place it back in the cup holder, and buckle in. “How are you feeling?”

  “Excited. Nervous.” A smile flashes across his lips. “Can’t figure out if I’m crazy or not, but I kind of don’t care because this is hands down the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “You’re a nut. You’ve won an Oscar. That’s, like, objectively cooler than just about an
ything.”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t do that. I made a cool movie because that’s my job, and they gave me a cool award for it, and it was one of the greatest nights of my life. But this is something I’m doing. Me. And have you seen my fucking car?”

  “She’s a beauty,” I agree. “Let’s go get her.”

  We stop by American Heavy Metal and load the Chevelle into the trailer.

  “Whose rig is this?” I ask as I secure the wheels.

  He grins. “I borrowed it from the production company. In exchange, we’re going to get some drone footage on our way through the foothills. Hope that’s okay with you?”

  I shrug and climb back into the truck. When he climbs up next to me, I say, “Duke probably would have loaned me his F-350. I’m just saying.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  I like that he assumes there will be a next time. That he’s going to qualify and be able to race the circuit. I’ve never been confident the way he is, but when I’m around him, his optimism rubs off on me. I realize it’s one of the things I’ve felt was missing after we broke up. I pull my knees up to my chest and stare out the window. What would it be like to have an endless fount of optimism to draw from?

  I glance over at him as I take a sip of my coffee. “How about some music?”

  “Coldplay?” He grins at my answering scowl. “Nah, you pick something.”

  “Well, in the shop, we listen to Duke’s old country music playlists and make up our own lyrics.”

  He cringes. “Surely we can meet in the middle.”

  “Or take another tack entirely?” I pick up my phone and start scrolling through my playlists until I find the one I made for Tegan’s birthday party last year. When Rihanna starts pouring through the speakers, he nods appreciatively.

  “Okay, okay, okay.”

  “Yeah?” I grin. “Cool. Maybe we’ll survive this road trip after all.”

  Matt

  There’s no water pressure in the hotel shower, so I stand under the trickle and let my thoughts roll over me. Excitement tingling through my limbs at the race ahead. Wanting to make Ani proud, and guilt for wanting anything at all to do with her, when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me. But that night in her car—